Devlin ascended the two steps out of the sunken living room and made a hard right. Her weapon up and aimed at the room on Randall’s starboard side, her partner outside her sight line on her one o’clock, she moved forward in a low crouch.
Half of a torso appeared in Randall’s Armasights.
Movement came from the room straight ahead of Devlin.
The covert operatives let out two controlled bursts each from their MP5s.
The form in the room collapsed.
“Mine’s down.”
The target upstairs groaned while sliding down a wall and listing onto his left shoulder.
“Tango down.”
Taking turns covering each other, the federal agents cleared the rest of the first floor before creeping up the stairs and repeating the tactic.
Randall lifted his NVGs. “All clear.”
Devlin moved her eyewear away from her face.
They turned on weapon-mounted flashlights and navigated their way to Crane’s still form.
She shined her light on him. “Is he still alive...or did he take a round?”
Randall knelt and inspected the man. “No bullet wounds. He’ll live to stand trial.”
She spied her watch. “Faith’ll be here in six minutes.”
He slung his rifle, bound Crane’s wrists behind the man’s back, with plastic ties, and hoisted the human sack of potatoes over one shoulder. “Let’s get ready for when she lands.”
They hurried into the kitchen and dashed by the island with the duffle bags on it.
Randall grabbed the door’s handle and stopped.
Three seconds passed.
Devlin regarded him. “What’s going on?”
He cocked an ear in the direction of the backyard.
A beat later, a distant thumping sound grew louder.
Devlin checked her timepiece. “She’s early. That’s good.”
Randall shook his head. “In this line of work, we don’t do early or late. Chase would’ve had our pilot here right on time.” He pivoted to gawk at the four duffle bags he had passed by twice now. Envisioning the four dead men in the house, he turned back toward the noise of the incoming helicopter before whipping his head toward the duffle bags. Damn it. He squared shoulders with Devlin. “Shift change.”
∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞=∞
.
Chapter 29
Stubborn Son-of-a—
1:25 A.M.
“What are you talking about...shift change?”
“Come on.” Randall rushed by the island again. “If my hunch is correct, there are more armed men on that chopper.” He descended into the living room, cleared the steps on the other side in one bound, and threw open the front door. “And we’re not exchanging gunfire with them if we don’t have to.”
Devlin followed him into the cold, night air, her warm breaths becoming visible.
The noise from the helicopter drew nearer.
“Call your sister and tell her the LZ is hot.”
She fished out her phone.
He glimpsed her. “That means the landing zone is—”
Waving him off, “I know what it means,” she put the device to her ear.
Randall spotted a larger-than-normal storage shed to the left before envisioning the landscape in the dead of winter. They have to have some way to get around on all this snow. I wonder if...
“Faith, it’s me. You can’t land.”
He stepped off the porch and started for the shed, stopping ten paces later when he noticed a black tarp hiding something along the side of the house. Oh, baby, please be what I, he peeled back the covering and smiled.
“Just trust me, Faith. You—”
“Tell her,” Randall yanked off the rest of the protective material, “tell her to have the pilot circle the area and wait for further instructions.”
Devlin repeated his words to Faith, clicked off, and jogged over to her teammate.
The helicopter’s blades chopped through the air, disrupting the peace and quiet.
She glanced toward the rear of the property and saw a moving beam of light shining down from the sky. Her voice went up in volume. “They’re coming in.”
“Go,” he poured Crane’s motionless frame onto a Yamaha 2-up snowmobile, “go get two belts from those dead guys.”
She ran into the cabin.
Randall inspected the machine, started the motor, and gunned it a couple times.
Panting, Devlin rushed out of the house with two belts.
He pointed at her, “Tie them together to make a long one,” then wrestled Crane into position and straddled the seat aft of the handlebars.
“Okay.” She looked toward the backyard.
Tree branches swayed.
Snow swirled around in a cloud.
The circle of light gradually expanded outward while the helicopter’s constant pounding noise blanketed the area.
“Now what?” Devlin shouted.
“Get on.” He took the long belt from her and wrapped it around Crane’s back and his own waist.
“Get on?” She scowled at the two-person snowmobile. “Get on...where?”
Randall cinched the belt, scooted forward with his unconscious passenger, and jerked a thumb at the tiny space that had emerged behind the men. “Right there.”
Devlin snorted. “That’s not enough room for me.”
“Sure, it is. You’re skinny.”
“Oh, so,” grabbing Crane for support, she whipped her right leg over the seat as if she were mounting a horse, “now you think I’m skinny. It wasn’t too long ago,” she wriggled into place and put her boots on the running boards, “you told me,” before looking down and gripping the handles at her sides, “I was fat.”
He recalled the incident from Mexico she had referenced...
Randall let out a short laugh. “Tough, devoted and selfless. Good qualities for a mother to have.”
Devlin whipped her head his way. “How’d you know I was a mother?”
He turned up a corner of his mouth. “I didn’t...until you—”
“Just,” she nodded, “confirmed it for you.”
“Also, while you’re a fit woman overall,” after glimpsing her midsection, “your little tummy bulge led me to believe,” he lifted his gaze to be greeted with a nasty if-looks-could-kill stare, “you had,” before faltering and turning away, “have...led me to believe you have a terrific figure.”
Devlin eyed the back of Randall’s head. “Do you remember that?”
He lowered his NVGs over his eyes. “How could I not? You never miss an opportunity to remind me.”
“I know how men can conveniently forget things.”
“Look at us.”
